


London Rising

by misura



Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Gen, POV First Person, Possibly Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4427795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Let me tell you, rebuilding cities out of thin air isn't as easy as they (or, all right, fair enough, <i>we</i>) are making it seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	London Rising

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaizoku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaizoku/gifts).



Let me tell you, building cities out of thin air isn't as easy as they (or, all right, fair enough, _we_ ) are making it seem. For starters, assuming you want your city to be fit for living in, you are well advised to use a somewhat sturdier type of material than air.

Of course, it's no use trying to explain that to idiots.

"Just ... think of something." My master, the genius problem solver.

I was thinking of something, all right, but it didn't have a whole lot to do with the problem at hand. Mostly, I was wondering what had possessed me to save this ungrateful fool's life. Several times, even.

You'd think a bit of gratefulness might have been called for, but had even a single word of thanks passed his lips? Of course not! It was almost enough to make me tell him what he could do with his brilliant idea and then take off for parts unknown. Which, I should add for those of you who haven't kept up, was actually a genuine option for me at this time, given that Nathaniel was no more my master than he was a genius problem solver.

(It's called 'sarcasm'. Go look it up, if you have to. I'll wait.)

"You should be more specific in your commands, John." The charming Miss Jane Farrar (yup, sarcasm again) stared down at me as if I was something she'd scraped off her shoes.

Given that in my current form, I was almost twice as tall as she, a less intelligent djinni might have admired her ability to flounce the laws of logic (i.e., her ability to look down at something that was, in fact, up). Alas, I only felt a strong distaste that bordered on outright repulsion.

Obviously, the fact that she'd been ready to sacrifice my life mere months ago in order to squeeze a bit of information out of me had nothing to do with my feelings. I'm not one to hold a grudge. (Nope. Not sarcasm. This would be more like outright lying, except, naturally, that I am by nature an extremely truthful being.)

"Farrar. What do you want?" My master, the great charmer. (Mind, I agreed with the sentiment.)

She shrugged. "Just came by to see if you needed a hand."

Right. Like she'd be of any use. To be honest, she might have been able to summon someone useful. If by 'someone useful', you meant 'someone likely to get in my way and make a dog's breakfast out of the whole project'.

"No." Clearly, it wasn't just me who wasn't being thanked politely. Of course, in this case, it was entirely warranted. For mysterious reasons, people actually seemed to like Nathaniel. His rudeness was excused as 'aloofness' or (get a load of this) even 'modesty'. Humans!

"I'm your friend here, John. One of the few you've got left."

If he believed _that_ , I had a few stories to tell him myself. Although they were funniest when drunk, which was not a state I had ever seen Nathaniel in. Perhaps I should do him yet another favor one of these days. I was fairly sure I'd enjoy seeing his hang-over the next morning.

"Where's Kitty? She might have an idea." Very light emphasis on the 'she', to suggest the same could not be said of the present company. Fair enough in Jane Farrar's case; less so in mine.

"I'll go find her, shall I?" Anything was better than sticking around. (Well, all right, not 'anything'. I'd definitely prefer finding Kitty over listening to these two go on and on.)

"No." Nathaniel shook his head. I wondered if perhaps the word 'yes' had gone the same way as the words 'please', 'thank you' and 'honestly, Bartimaeus, I could not have done it without you'. "We'll both go. Unless you need me for something else?" (This last to Jane, of course. He might be an idiot, but he wasn't _completely_ stupid.)

She shook her head, so off we went. I tried not to think of it as fleeing. It wasn't, clearly; Nathaniel wanted to talk to Kitty, and Kitty was plainly not here. Therefore, it made perfect sense for us to get a move on. London wasn't going to rebuild itself, after all. Sadly.

 

Kitty seemed to get a little better every day. If I were given to being able to accurately estimate a human's age, right now, I might guess her to be around forty years of age. (Frankly, it's all much the same to us, even if, sure, we like to have a general idea of your age and, therefore, how much experience you might have in dealing with our kind.) Her aura still had the power to light up any room.

Tents, less so. Still, as far as 'other people Nathaniel had trouble thanking for saving his life' went, he at least made some of an effort to treat her politely. Some might even say he went a little bit beyond that. (Not me, obviously. I'm not the type of djinni given to idle gossip, let alone speculation about matters of the heart. But hey, if she had still looked like someone of approximately his own age and if he hadn't been a self-centered, self-important moron, I feel the potential for something beautiful and tragic and romantic would definitely have been there.)

"Can't you just use some of the stuff that's still there?"

I slapped my forehead. "Now why didn't I think of that?"

She smiled a little. Nathaniel didn't wince. It was an extremely noticeable lack of wincing, although anyone who didn't know him as well as I did might have missed it. (Don't look at me like that; it's not as if I had any choice in the matter. Or, fine, I did, but the alternative at the time seemed worse.)

"What kind of materials do you need? And how much?"

"Bricks and wood, for starters. Steel. Glass. About a city's worth. So if you'd happen to have got a spare one of those lying around, that would come in really handy."

Nathaniel frowned. "Can't you just do what you did at Jericho? And Prague?"

I didn't point out the obvious. (Look, I was still getting the hang of this building thing, all right? Anyway, the way I looked at it was that those two incidents just meant I now had a much better idea what to do. And what not to do.) "Those were walls, not entire cities." Also obvious, but far more to the point.

"Some people think that we should be rebuilding London by ourselves," Kitty said.

"In theory, I approve of this idea wholeheartedly." I did, too. I have hobbies and interests, but breaking my back isn't one of them. "In practice, I'm spotting a couple of practical problems."

Nathaniel was still frowning. "How can they possibly believe they could ever do a better job than Bartimaeus?"

I glanced at him surreptitiously. He didn't look like he was about to fall over dead. Still, a daring statement, indeed. I might almost believe it had been a compliment.

Kitty shrugged. "Humans built London the first time." And a messy mass of streets and buildings it had been, too. Not without its charms, possibly, provided you caught it on a good day (in other words: a dry one. Which was rarely, in my experience.)

"And humans destroyed it." I considered warning Nathaniel that if he wasn't careful, his face might get stuck looking like that. I'd probably be too late, though.

Apparently, it might even be contagious. "Not just humans."

"It doesn't matter." He never argued with her. That didn't mean he always agreed; he just ... changed the subject. Which I could have told him was no healthy way to cultivate a relationship, but then, what do I know about relationships? Other than the fact that a good argument every now and then has never done anyone any harm. (Usually, anyway. I mean, unless people start pulling out swords and such, in which case things had probably reached a point where all hope was lost regardless.)

"No. I suppose not. People need shelter."

Happily, it wasn't the whole of London's population who were in need of new homes to be built by yours truly. Over half of them had died. I'd probably be finding their bodies in the rubble.

"At least we've got enough food. For now."

Three guesses who was to thank for that little feat. Not that anyone'd actually done so, of course.

"You - you shouldn't worry about things like that. You should just concentrate on getting better." If only he'd changed his expression when he'd said it, he might have gotten somewhere. I mean, sure, such sickly sweet concern wouldn't exactly send _my_ heart racing, but at least it was something.

As it was, he was just making himself look obnoxious and annoying. (In other words: like his real self. Never a good idea when pursuing a romantic relationship.)

Kitty said nothing. I guess she already knew what Nathaniel didn't want to admit out loud: that there was only so far she could recover, and that that point might already have been reached.

When the silence got a little too melodramatic for my tastes (i.e., after about five seconds) I cleared my throat.

"I think I might know a place where we could find some materials. Not enough for a whole city, but enough to make a start, at least."

Nathaniel's face slipped back into its usual expression. "You do? Why didn't you say so before?"

Rather than slap him, I settled for an insolent shrug. "I forgot."

He bought it, hook, line and sinker. Kitty, I think, knew better. Oh well. A worry for another day.

"Well, let's go, then. Kitty, excuse me. I'll see you later."

As we exited the tent, I tried to remember who might be keeping an eye on the city of Prague and its first-class building materials.


End file.
